The Dating Games Series Volume One

by T. K. Leigh

  “How did you know I liked my martini dirty?” I ask in a smooth voice, trying to calm the butterflies swimming in my stomach by bringing the glass back to my mouth.

  He licks his lips, leaning toward me. “I had a feeling you liked things…dirty.”

  I choke on my drink, coughing as I struggle to breathe. He hands me a napkin and I cover my mouth. If anyone else used that line on me, I’d roll my eyes and send them on their way. But this guy isn’t saying it to get into my pants. At least, I don’t think he is. It’s all part of his personality — cool, confident, yet lighthearted.

  “Wouldn’t you like to find out?” I quip once I clear my throat.

  “You have no idea.” His voice is guttural and wanton as he inches closer. I zero in on his lips, drawn to them like a moth to a flame.

  Then he pulls back, bringing his drink to his mouth, acting as if his statement didn’t leave me squirming. When he speaks again, he sounds different, his tone lighter and more conversational, a complete one-eighty.

  “More bachelorette festivities planned for the evening? Or is that all over?”

  I draw in a deep breath to compose myself. “Don’t I wish. I stopped by here to ensure I’m in the right…frame of mind for what awaits me.”

  “And what is it that awaits you?”

  “I’m not sure you want to know,” I respond with a roll of my eyes.

  “Is it as bad as doing blowjob shots while wearing a string of penises around your neck?”

  Squinting, I cock my head, his statement catching me off guard. There’s no way he’d know about those shots unless he were watching me earlier in the evening. I remind myself it could just be a coincidence. I was at a bachelorette party. It’s not a big stretch to assume we’d do blowjob shots. They tend to go hand-in-hand.

  “That was child’s play compared to tonight’s festivities.” I flash him a coy smile over the top of my glass as I tilt it back, then return it to the bar.

  “Do tell. You can’t leave me hanging with a statement like that.” His eyes sparkle with amusement and intrigue.

  “What would you say if I told you I’d be learning how to strip and pole dance?” My voice comes out breathy, laden with desire, as I inch toward him.

  His expression widens momentarily, muscles clenching, before he recovers, that unaffected attitude returning. “I’d say I’d love to see that.”

  I lean even closer, barely a breath between us. “I bet you would.” I scrape my lips ever so slightly against his. The touch is no more than a whisper, yet it ignites a spark deep within. “Maybe later, I can give you a private show of what I learned.”

  “But I thought you didn’t hook up in this town?” I can feel his mouth turn into a wry smile. “I thought you said your pussy was on a break.”

  Moisture pools between my thighs, the combination of his proximity and words making me want to blow off tonight and do my own private striptease with my mystery man.

  “An exception can be made.”

  A slight growl escapes his throat, his lips about to press firmly against mine when a loud, shrill voice cuts through.

  “There you are!”

  I quickly tear away, snapping my eyes to my right as Bernadette rushes toward me, her blonde curls bouncing with each long stride, a woman on a mission. As expected, she’s still wearing her “Bitch of Honor” tank top. I wonder if she slept in it.

  “I’ve been texting and calling you the past five minutes. The party bus is out front. Izzy said you were coming here for a drink and a quick bite…”

  She trails off, halting in her tracks the instant she notices the man beside me. The way his body is positioned makes it apparent we’re not simply strangers sitting next to each other at a bar. Her eyes rake over his crisp suit, unshaven jaw, and wayward dark locks. A smirk forms on her lips as she all but salivates over him.

  “I guess you did come for a quick bite.” She flirtatiously waggles her brows.

  He opens his mouth to say something, but she advances, closing in on his personal space like a lioness in heat. He scoots back in his chair to put distance between them, but she doesn’t get the hint. I wonder if her husband knows how she’s behaved all weekend, that she’s shamelessly flirted with anything with a pulse, male and female.

  “Want to come with us? We’re about to go to a striptease and pole dancing class.” She sticks out her chest, squeezing her arms against her body to make her cleavage pop. “I’d love someone to perform for.”

  Rolling my eyes so hard I’m confident I see my ass, I scoot off my stool, stepping between them. I hope I didn’t come across as desperate as Bernadette when I propositioned the same thing. I don’t think anyone could come across as desperate as Bernadette.

  “I’m ready,” I announce, pulling my wallet out of my purse. “I just need to pay for my dinner first.”

  I’m about to ask for the check when he places his hand on my forearm. The instant I feel his skin on mine, my pulse skyrockets, breath quickening. I look at him, questioning. I expect him to withdraw his hand. Instead, he lingers, his fingers tracing light circles.

  “It’s taken care of,” he states with authority.

  “But—”

  “It’s taken care of.” This time, his voice is harsher, leaving no room for argument.

  I part my lips, my words stuck in my throat. How can I make him understand why I don’t like the idea of anyone paying for my meal or my drinks? That it makes it easier to walk away after a night, a week, a month, whatever it may be? That it’s helped keep my heart guarded? It helps keep their heart guarded, too, safe from the inevitable destruction my life will unfold on them.

  That it brings up too many memories of a past I want to forget.

  “Say okay.” His tone is a cross between a plea and demand.

  Hypnotized, oblivious to everything other than giving him what he wants, I respond, “Okay.” My voice doesn’t even sound like my own. I’m a puppet and he my master pulling the strings.

  He brings his fingers to my chin, tilting my head back. “Say thank you.”

  My pulse skyrockets. It’s so simple, so innocent, yet has me wondering what it would be like to hear him tell me what to do in the bedroom. And based on what I’ve observed, he’d do just that.

  “Thank you,” I whimper.

  His lips inch toward mine, every synapse in my body firing. “You’re welcome.”

  I close my eyes, bracing for his kiss, but it never comes. Instead, he drops his hold on me, the warmth of his breath disappearing. I flutter my eyes open, disoriented. Then I spy Bernadette standing off to the side, smirking like an older sister would when catching the younger one kissing a boy. It’s not that far off. At one time, Bernadette was like an older sister.

  Trying to settle my raging hormones, I hop off my barstool, pretending I’m a composed, professional twenty-eight-year-old woman. Bernadette’s smirk only grows wider. I keep my head lowered as I loop my arm through hers, dragging her away.

  “Who was that?” she whispers once we’re outside the restaurant, glancing over her shoulder.

  The realization hits and I blink repeatedly. “I don’t know.” I stop walking and look back to where I was just sitting. He’s no longer there, as if he vanished. If Bernadette hadn’t seen him, I’d think I imagined the entire thing. “I never got his name.”

  “Pity,” she replies with a dismissive shrug of her shoulders. “He was quite the looker. But fear not. There will be more than enough eye candy for us tonight.”

  She grabs my hand and pulls me toward another night of bachelorette torture.

  Chapter Three

  Relief rolls off my shoulders as I make my way through the quiet corridors of the hotel and toward a bank of elevators, pulling my roll-a-board behind me. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy about a vacation ending as I am about getting on that plane in a few hours. As much as I love Hannah, I’d rather be stuck in my cubicle at the office than in this city for another second.

  Once I’
m in the elevator on my way to the lobby to meet Izzy, I pull my phone out of my purse and type out a quick text to my friend and coworker, Evie.

  Headed to the airport. I should be back in town around 7.

  I can’t wait to hear all about it. You should do a piece about bachelorette parties for the magazine, but in a way only your cynicism can truly deliver.

  I respond, arguing I’m not that cynical, when the elevator slows to a stop on another floor and the doors open. Keeping my eyes glued to my phone as I finish my text, I step back to make room for anyone about to get on. That’s when a familiar scent hits me, earthy and raw. I snap my head up, my body stiffening when I see him.

  I thought the first time we ran into each other was simply a chance encounter. The second a coincidence. But a third time?

  At first, he remains frozen in place, gaze glued to mine. Then a mischievous smile gradually replaces his stunned expression and he enters, standing unnervingly close as he leans toward me to press the lobby button that’s already illuminated.

  The elevator doors close, leaving us alone in this tiny space that’s abuzz with electricity. Conscious of every sound, every heartbeat, every breath, I stare straight ahead. With each drawn-out second, my pulse increases, mouth growing dry. I shift from foot to foot, ready to burst from the tension.

  When the silence becomes unbearable, I float my eyes to his, only to notice he’s unabashedly staring at me. Unlike our previous encounters, he’s dressed casually in a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms. Khaki shorts hang from his hips, a pair of tan flip-flops on his feet.

  “Taking a day off from ruling the world?” My voice breaks through.

  “Ruling the world?”

  “Exactly. You always act so in charge. So…in control.”

  His lips curve up into one of the most sensual grins I’ve ever seen. Screw Matt Damon’s sexy smirk, or Brad Pitt’s flirtatious smile. They have nothing on this guy.

  “I do like being in control.”

  I attempt to fight against the blush building on my cheeks, averting my gaze. All I hear is his voice from the other night.

  Say okay. Say thank you.

  And I did. It was so simple, so innocent, yet it lit me up in a way that left me craving him all weekend. His words. His presence. His…dominance.

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” I chew on my bottom lip, fidgeting with the hem of my jacket. “I meant you look and act like you have some high-powered job. Master of the universe and all that.”

  “Master of the universe?” He arches a single brow.

  “Yes.” I return my eyes to his, shrugging. “You know, like He-man.”

  “Well…” Licking his lips, he closes the distance, the heat of his breath on my neck making me tremble. “Appearances can be deceiving. Wouldn’t you agree?” He pulls back, meeting my gaze.

  “They can be,” I reply thoughtfully, masking my shaky voice. “But something tells me they’re not. Not when it comes to you.”

  “Even the master of the universe deserves a day off to enjoy life’s…pleasures.”

  My nerve endings tingle as that one word hangs in the air, making me hyper-aware of my heartbeat, which I’m confident they can hear in the casino. Hell, they can probably even hear it all the way at the Hoover Dam.

  I swallow hard, my gaze fixated on his lips, thinking how much pleasure they could give me. Suddenly, the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open, the clanging bells of slot machines breaking our moment.

  I snap out of my daze, squaring my shoulders as I scramble out of the enclosed space and into the casino, able to breathe again. Normally, I hate the loud noise that meets me every time I step off this elevator, feeling much like the Grinch when he complains about all the “noise, noise, noise” down in Whoville. But right now, I find it comforting, at least compared to the anxiety that consumes me whenever I’m in this man’s presence.

  “Headed home?” When I hear his voice, I look to my right to see him catching up to me.

  “Thankfully, yes. One night in Vegas is too long. I’ve been here four.” I slow my steps as I near the front doors, scanning the enormous lobby for any sign of Izzy. She’s probably still in a ridiculously long line for coffee. God, I hate this city.

  “Aren’t you headed out?” he asks when I don’t follow him outside.

  “I’m waiting for a friend. We’re on the same flight.”

  “Oh.” His expression momentarily falls, but he recovers quickly, smiling, although it doesn’t make his eyes sparkle as it usually does. “Well, it was nice seeing you again.”

  “You, too.”

  He hesitates briefly, and I can almost see the words on the tip of his tongue. Then he turns from me, walking out the revolving glass doors. I can’t help but admire his long strides, muscular legs, broad shoulders, and what I can only imagine is a firm ass. I almost don’t want to look away. But when a ping sounds from my phone, I do just that.

  Unlocking the screen, I read a text from Evie saying she’s spending the night at Julian’s and not to worry if she’s not at my place when I get home. I reply, telling her she should just officially move in with him.

  When her boyfriend of twelve years broke up with her, I offered her a place to stay, considering how difficult it is to find an affordable apartment in the city. But now that she has a new man in her life, she hasn’t spent much time at my apartment. I’m pretty sure she’s also stopped looking for a place of her own.

  As I finish my text, a slight movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. It shouldn’t, considering it’s Vegas. This entire place is a constant wave of motion. But something draws my gaze toward the doors.

  When I see my mystery man standing there, his impassioned stare trained on me, I’m stunned, frozen in place, in time, in this moment. The intensity in his stormy green eyes sends a rush of exhilaration through me, leaving me breathless. No man’s ever looked at me this way. Or maybe they have, but I ignored it. But I can’t ignore him.

  He starts toward me and everything else seems to disappear. It’s…quiet. Gone are the obnoxious sounds of slot machines, the tourists rushing by, and the ridiculously loud club music filling the space, even at eleven in the morning. Reaching me, his hand palms the small of my back and he pulls me against him. A spark shoots through me, low and deep, igniting a flame I didn’t think would ever be lit again.

  He brings his other hand to my hair, wrapping his fingers around it, forcing my head back. I stare into his eyes, unable to escape. And I don’t want to, don’t want to flee this bubble.

  “I can’t leave,” he begins, his voice husky, low, sensual.

  “Sure you can,” I murmur. “All you have to do is put one foot in front of the other and walk through those doors.”

  He slowly shakes his head. “No. What I meant to say is I can’t leave without…” His mouth inches even closer.

  “Without what?” My lips tingle in anticipation.

  “Without kissing you.”

  My nerves stir as my stomach fills with the wings of a thousand butterflies, all of them screaming at him to finally get on with it.

  “Then what are you waiting for?”

  His grip on me tightens and he yanks my body harder against his, his eyes flaring with unyielding desire. He gradually decreases the distance, this torturous dance of seduction making me even more on edge. I’m desperate to feel his lips, to know how they taste. All weekend, I’ve fantasized about his kiss. Most people would probably wonder what he was like in bed, how he screwed. Not me. There’s nothing personal about that. Kissing is much more intimate.

  Based on what little I know of him, I imagined he kissed with all the confidence he seemed to do everything else. At first, it would be controlled and reserved, but still addictive. He wouldn’t be able to hold back for long. It would explode into a passionate exchange, leaving me thoughtless, breathless, soulless, ruining me for all men who would come after him.r />
  When his breath dances on my flesh, I close my eyes, bracing to feel his full lips on me. Instead, boisterous voices infiltrate our bubble, a body slamming into me, causing me to teeter on my heels.

  Forced out of my trance, I glare at a bunch of drunk guys in their twenties, all of them carrying those huge plastic cups containing sugary, frozen drinks. It’s not even noon, yet they already look like they’ve been overserved.

  “Are you okay?” my mystery man asks, and I return my eyes to his.

  “Of course.” I straighten my jacket, even more happy to be going home than I was before. I’m about to ask where we were when an alert interrupts. He reaches into his pocket, withdrawing his cell.

  “My Uber’s here.” He offers me an apologetic smile. Then he leans in, his mouth a whisper from my neck. “Safe travels.” He kisses my cheek, his lips lingering on my skin for several long moments. When he pulls away, he holds my gaze before retreating, leaving me feeling like a hormonally imbalanced high school freshman who was nearly kissed by the hot senior quarterback before the prom queen pulled him away.

  I exhale a breath, taking a moment to collect myself. But I don’t have a moment. Izzy hurries toward me, eyes wide in curiosity.

  “Who was that?” The tone of her voice indicates she must have seen him kiss my cheek, at the very least.

  All I can do is shake my head as I shift my attention to the front doors and watch my mystery man slide into the back seat of a dark sedan.

  “Just some guy.”

  Chapter Four

  “So you mean to tell me that, of the three times you’ve seen him—”

  “Four, if you count him coming back to try to kiss me.”

  “Whatever…” Izzy waves me off. “That’s not the point. The point is that you never thought to ask him his name?” Her voice is filled with disbelief at the story I just relayed to her about my run-ins with Mr. Mysterious over the course of the weekend.